


Daggers in Men's Smiles

by CoffeeHunt



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, But Basing Demons from Supernatural, Demon!Stiles, Gen, Implied Character Death, M/M, Poor DerBear can't catch a break, Self-Hating derek, not really a crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeHunt/pseuds/CoffeeHunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's so much blood on his hands he can't tell the difference anymore between the old and the new; the heat of the fresh and the flaky ash of old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daggers in Men's Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> Just something short because I like demons and angst and making Derek feel shitty.
> 
> Title taken from Macbeth.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

\---

 

He wonders if maybe it's his fault.  
There's so much blood on his hands he can't tell the difference anymore between the old and the new; the heat of the fresh and the flaky ash of old.

Stiles is stupid and loud, that at least hasn't changed, as he squirms under the weight he pushes onto his shoulders. He, this boy of endless snide remarks and gaping open-mouthed breaths, snarls at him. It's not a human sound he's ever heard, it's not an animal one. It's dark and course, it tears up from Stiles' chest like it means to claw out of his body, like it has the power to force the hands away from him. He is wild in his kicking and thrashing on the floor, putting everything he has in him to try and free himself from the restraint. But he won't let Stiles go. Won't let him escape again. And he hears the bones crack under his hold as he clutches tighter.   
There's a moment there where Stiles looks up at him then. The flailing stops for just a second as he shudders under a truly agonized scream and their eyes latch, click, hold, like they're glued. 

He wonders if it's his fault.  
He wonders if he did this, if he has hurt someone else innocent with his negligence. He can hear Scott screaming somewhere around him, but it all tunnels down to him. He can't focus over the voice in his head screaming, yelling, at him. It's his own guilt but it sounds like Stiles. Sounds like laughing and that weird snort he makes when he rolls his eyes.   
He doesn't have to wonder.  
He knows; this is his fault. His doing. Once again he has ruined something good and he can't even pretend anymore that he's surprised.

"STOP!" Scott echoes around his ears. "Stop, you're killing him! Stop!"

It's too late. He knows. Scott will learn soon enough. It's nothing but fire and blood from here.

"Stop!" Scott yells again and now he can feel the claws digging into his own shoulders. "You're killing him!"

Stiles stills in his hands, the pain on his face erased with a wide grin that shows his dimples and the white line of teeth. But it doesn't hide the black pitch that films over his eyes.

_"Go on, Derek. It's the only thing you're good at."_

And that's true enough, he knows. He knows it down to his shaking bones when he moves a hand from Stiles' crippled shoulder to the thin stretch of neck.  
For a moment he hesitates, he thinks it may be his fault but maybe he can fix this too. Maybe he can save him, save himself a little too, and just maybe it will all be okay. But Stiles is moving again, his hands coming up despite the broken bones and cupping his face between them. It's not Stiles. In that instant he knows more clearly than he ever had before, and he knows without doubt that _Stiles_ as he knew him, as anyone ever had, is gone.

He bears down.  
Holds tighter, grits his teeth against the burn in his chest and locks his determination into place.   
There's one last moment, a second between the ghost of wasting breath over his wrist and the failed attempt to gasp into empty lungs, that he thinks he can see something behind the black. Something like a smile or an awkward moment pressed against a beat up jeep, but then this new Stiles, this _un_ -Stiles, is back and laughing and burning down every hope he had for his life and the world with his single last ounce of breath.

_"You never could have saved us."_ He taunts. And it's true, he knows it.

 

Down to his shaking bones.


End file.
